


ride a minimart cart into my heart

by trashemdudes



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Gen, details don't match a particular time in canon, i think, minimarts don't usually have groceries, tryin stuff out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 09:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9318074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashemdudes/pseuds/trashemdudes
Summary: Dick goes to a minimart and just...sees...Jason grocery shopping.





	

 

Dick was considering if he’d get caught. As a whole, not eating regular, healthy meals didn’t bother him, but. It’d bother Alfred.

In his defense, it'd never been practical for him to have foods that spoiled easily in his apartment. Not with his lifestyle.

Even if there was a high sugar content in the breakfast cereals he preferred, the companies also tended to fill them with vitamins, calcium, iron and so on. It had everything he needed for a balanced meal. The extra sugar was even good for him considering how many calories he burned. All in all, it was simple, easy and cost effective.

So Dick didn’t really consider it that much worse than a normal meal. He was still wondering if he was going to get caught though.

Alfred didn’t visit much because Bruce was a real handful, but on the occasions that he had taken a “vacation,” he usually came by to visit Dick or Tim, and more recently, Damian came along for the ride.

Dick...could always hide the boxes....

He guessed he’d just deal with Alfred’s lecturing in the form of snide remarks along with Damian’s unavoidable jabs topping it all off if he was so unlucky; he dropped the boxes into his shopping cart, overfilling it. It was always easier to buy in bulk with nonperishable items. Convenient, considering how hectic his schedule could be.

Even now, he was only doing it because it was along the way from Gotham to Bludhaven. Far enough away that no one would recognize Bruce Wayne's dead son that was shockingly unveiled as a vigilante.

He moved down the aisle, scanning the prices, vaguely registering the marketing tactics and appreciating them; he might have been a college dropout who rarely went to class, but Dick had gotten something from those business classes besides a depressingly low GPA.

When he reached the end of the aisle, he was facing the dairy section, searching through the frighteningly large variety of milk. Two quarts would be enough for now.

Milk was a different thing because it could spoil, and...Dick had eaten cereal with water, dry, orange juice, blood - his own hacked up blood - and so on. He didn't mind.

The main thing had always been getting himself full and ready for the day.

That was when he spotted him, when he was holding two milk cartons in his hand that said “whole milk” with an unreasonably pleased cow on the front.

They looked up at the same time.

Then looked away at the same time, Dick staring at the Holstein cow clip art. Jason pushed his cart forward at the same time as Dick, and with the extra little cardboard stand for butter cookies...they were sort of stuck.

They both looked up again.

“Dick,” Jason said in that way that made Dick certain he wasn't using it to refer to his name.

Dick sighed, “Hey Jason.”

“Could you move your cart?”

Dick blinked, “Or you could move yours.”

The minimart with its convenient grocery section of the store was out of Jason way, so Dick wasn't completely sure what Jason was doing there...in sweatpants and a hoodie.

It was nice being able to see Jason’s expression for once - and the look of irritation that came over him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the nice one?”

“No,” Dick replied, vaguely irritated now too. On occasion, he ended up working with Jason, but they always had a mission to focus on, to distract themselves with...now, now Dick was just recalling that Jason had attempted to kill Bruce and Tim, and had beaten Tim and Damian up. That the frowning asshole in front of him pulled the trigger without remorse. “You must’ve missed the announcement on that one.”

“Really. When. When I was dead-”

“You can’t keep bringing that up.”

“Or,” Jason asked, “Was I just supposed to take the blatant lying and manipulation as the neon sign and come to that conclusion myself, Agent 37?”

Dick didn’t say anything.

“Can I keep bringing that one up?”

“No,” Dick replied.

“Ok, then I’ll just bring back the first one back from the dead.”

Dick sucked a breath in.

“Cause I was the first to die. Get it?” Jason said monotonically, “For real, too.”

Dick sighed, glancing up at the other shopper there at 2 a.m. who seemed to be interested in getting yogurt - which was between them. Then he looked away, impatient and tired. He’d been up for the last 36 hours and had spent a good amount of it, feeling frustrated with himself. Tim still wasn’t talking to him.

“I did die, Jason.”

Jason’s expression flickered.

“My heart stopped. It was only for a few seconds. I got brought back to life right after.”

“Great, glad you could join the club.”

Jason stared him down, unblinking and then he looked away as he said, “Did you tell the other two that?”

“No.”

“You should. And you didn’t deserve it.”

It’s difficult for Dick to reconcile someone who would murder with someone who shows compassion. It’s always been difficult for him, not because he believes people who murder never do it out of the need to protect someone, out of the need to just... make it all stop.

But because murdering someone, the way Jason does, in cold blood, consciously, planned, takes apathy towards another person, it means that he thinks he’s better than them, that he isn’t fallible. Maybe if it was just the Joker, Dick could understand. He’d... he wished he could say almost, but he’d killed him. The same with Blockbuster.

But drug lords, other criminals, there was a reason the police weren’t supposed to kill. If they made a mistake?

And even then, it wasn’t up to them to judge what kind of crime deserved death. But Jason was arrogant enough to do it.

But he took care of Tim and Damian. Sometimes Bruce.

Jason owed that to them after all he’d done, owed them more than that; it was nothing to praise him for, but right then, Jason looked young, more vulnerable under the minimart’s bright lights, and just vaguely irritated. Like how a college freshman would look, up late studying and hungry. Jason was still nineteen.

Dick stared at his boxes of cereal before pulling his cart back letting Jason through without saying anything.

Jason didn’t move.

“Seriously?” Jason asked. “I have no idea what the other two see in you, Dick.”

“What?” Dick looked up, annoyed, “This is what you wanted.”

Jason shoved his cart forward, the metal scraping against Dick’s cart as Jason sneered, striding forward without another word.

“Hey!” Dick yelled, grabbing Jason’s arm. It was the wrong move.

Jason grabbed Dick’s collar in turn, slamming him up against the shelves.

“Wrong move, Dickie.”

It was always nice to be validated in his conclusions, Dick supposed.

It was very hard to not just punch Jason in the face. But that was normal. He wasn’t always impartial when it came to Jason. He had been able to be when it had come to Rose or Damian at the beginning. They had done just as bad and were just as unapologetic about it.

The difference was that this was too close to him. So many things that could have been so easily changed.

Dick tucked away his nervous tics, and then said, “Do I matter to you?”

“What?” Jason squinted at him, distasteful disbelief written on his face. He tilted his head back, “You’re egotistical, I know, but-”

“That’s not what I meant. Not how I meant it, at least.”

Jason waited, watching him coolly.

“You don’t need me in your life. But do you want me in it. I can’t tell. If you don’t, okay. You deserved better from me as Robin, and I’m one of the people you still do deserve better from. I’m not that good of a guy. So if you don’t, I’ll keep my distance, treat you as a work partner and acquaintance.”

“If I do?” Jason asked, face expressionless.

“Then I’ll try my best to be your family.”

Jason let out a breath, dropping Dick, “Fuck. You’re hilarious, you know that?”

“Why would you assume I want you in my life? Because on occasion, I’m decent to you? Sorry no, I’m just capable of being mature about this when I choose.”

“Is that a no?”

Jason stared at him, turned around, and then started pushing his cart away from Dick.

Dick watched Jason turn into a nearby aisle, his eyes lingering on where his figure had been for a time. Then he looked back down at his shirt. It was stretched.

Dick plucked at the cloth before changing directions and running his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t known what he wanted Jason to say. 

He supposed that by the next time he saw him again, he'd figure it out.

 

They met again five minutes later.

Dick was taking the last bag of Bakey’s edible spoons because Dick’s frustration with littering and non-recyclable goods had only increased after working as a police officer.

He turned to find Jason staring him and the package down, glaring, probably not even realizing that he was before the man turned.

Dick looked at the spoons, thought about the pile of unwashed spoons and bowls in his sink matched with the plastic spoons and paper bowls in the trash. He could just make one more stop before his apartment.

“Did you want them, Jason?”

“No.”

“You know...”

Jason stopped, his shoulders tensing before he turned around to say, “What?”

“You’re the only person I know who really doesn’t like me.”

That same disgusted, incredulous expression on Jason’s face.

“Even Bruce. You like him better than me, and you hate him half the time.”

Jason’s eye twitched.

“Why?”

“Just let me finish shopping in fucking peace, will you?” Jason ground out. “I just wanted some microwaveable food and instead, I get you.”

Dick stared at him, frustration bubbling up, then popping as they reached the surface. He took the bag, placed it in Jason’s cart and then walked to the checkout.

 

Dick was just pulling the cash out when Jason ran his cart into Dick, probably leaving a bruise, offering an ingenuous smile, “Sorry. My mistake.”

Dick ignored him, putting down the two twenties when Jason added in, “The total’s gonna be around a hundred.”

“I can do math-”

Jason was putting his groceries on the conveyor belt, telling the cashier, “He’s paying.”

The cashier looked between the two of them.

Dick stared at the Neopolitan ice cream tub, canned chili, and all beef hotdogs at the beginning of Jason’s items on the belt and then sighed, pulling out four more twenties and placing them down, offering a genial smile. Then he bagged his goods and Jason’s too, putting them in their respective carts.

Jason walked past him once Dick was done, pulling his cart behind him as he said, “Ok.”

 

“Sit,” Jason said.

Dick sat down on the cement block, stretching his legs out into the parking space.

Jason sat...not on the other end, but not close and not far from Dick. Enough that if Dick jutted his elbow out, he’d bump into Jason.

Dick looked up at the blank night sky. Just endless ink pouring over the edges.

Jason pulled out cigarettes from his pocket, plucking one out with an ease that spoke of experience. He put it back into his hoodie pocket and took out a lighter, the small flame lighting up his face. His face was a mixture of cool pink and blue highlights from the neon sign of the minimart and the warm yellow glow from the lighter.

He lit it.

“Replacement showed me the video from his mask recording of you beating up the Joker. I liked your expression then.”

Jason took a drag.

It was hard not to get angry. Dick clenched his fists and bowed his head, gritting his teeth. Jason liked one of the worst moments of his life. One of the nights when Dick had been the most despicable kind of human. He'd lost control to his anger, something he'd fought against the whole time; like a goddamn hypocrite. After all those times he had lectured the Titans, chastised Kori... and he still hadn't been enough, just - _enough_ , to have control over himself.

“You know, I wasn’t even surprised when Replacement told me B brought him back to life. Had to drag the words out of the little shit. Five hours later, when I was alone, I found myself laughing. The mission wasn’t about me. I’d been stupid enough to think that it could’ve been. B’s mission is about a little boy who lost his parents in an alleyway a century ago. About the holy savior he hadn’t had. He shuts off his emotions for that mission. Nothing’s more important than it, and nothing ever will be.”

Jason breathed out, the smoke filling the air, making the light beyond it hazy, scattering the particles of light.

“I’m not like him, and it took thinking back about Talia to made me realize it. She’s a cold bitch, but she understands, all villains do. Life is always personal. And it’s always dirty. There’s no detached way to deal with it.  My mission? It’s about lives, and I hold that above everything. It’s because it’s _everything_ that I can do anything. B’s is about that distant, arbitrary “good,” and that’s useless when you’re broken, starving, alone and desperate.”

Jason see-sawed the cigarette in his hand before offering it to Dick.

Dick shook his head, and Jason frowned just slightly, keeping his hand in Dick's face. The moment Dick opened his mouth to verbally refuse, he had it shoved it into his lips. Dick started coughing, eyes watering as he caught the cigarette dropped into his hand by reflex.

Through his watering eyes, Dick could see Jason stared at him impassively. It was like he was wearing his red helmet. There was nothing to read.

“You’re making your mission about that too. You make it about that crying rich kid when you go off and play dead. When you lock yourself up in your apartment, when you work alone, not because you really like it, but because you end up needing it because the world doesn’t match your expectations. The ones Bruce gave you. You make it about him when you emulate him because you make his way the right way.”

Dick wiped at his eyes with his free hand, the bitter taste of the cigarette lingering in his mouth. He sniffled.

“I loved B. He was my hero, but Diana was my idol. We’re human sure, but have you ever tried it her way? Supes’ way? Batman’s really been your only teacher. Tim, Damian? They had you. Babs has her dad. Cass had her dad and Shiva as shitty as they were, Babs too. Stephanie has Tim, Cass, Barbara. Who’d you have besides him? And still, who don’t you have?”

Dick stared at the cigarette, at the flickering flame between the ashes barely clinging together at the end of the stick.

“I don’t like you because you’re supposed to be better than that. Wonderwoman, Superman, Aquaman, Flash. The Titans. All the generations of heroes and you grew up with them. Lead them. And still. You’re stuck on Bruce. I honestly don’t get it. You ask me, Replacement, Oracle, they’re more worth your admiration and imitation.”

“He’s...my dad, Jason.”

His partner, mentor, hero, idol, brother, friend, father.

“I don’t really care. You asked me why I don’t like you? That’s why. Plus your fucking ego that you hide a little too well.”

“I-”

Jason stood up, picking up his grocery bags from his cart. He pushed the cart back to where all the others were lined up. Then he walked back, snatched the cigarette from Dick’s hands, looking down at him. He breathed in and then turned, smoke floating past him as he walked away to his motorcycle. Dick watched him put his groceries in the saddlebags. Put the heavier and larger items in the sidecar.

Jason had a sidecar. For who, Dick wondered.

At that distance, Dick could only spot Jason through the little light his cigarette made.

Then Jason's silhouette threw a leg over the seat, the engine roared to life, and his figure backed out and disappeared in seconds.

Eventually, Dick got cold enough that he stood up, put a foot on the bottom rail of his cart and pushed off, tucking both feet in as he rode over to the rest of the carts. He swerved, avoiding a pothole and crashed into the other carts. Just like he’d done as a kid, going on grocery runs, often not with his parents, but with any amiable adult at the circus.

He stood under the humming lights of the market by his still loaded cart, moths fluttering overhead.

Then he opened his phone. He typed in the PIN and pressed the text icon. Went down to Jason Todd and opened their last conversation. Looked at the last text his little brother had sent him.

 

Have a trip

 

                                                        Just a trip?

 

Have an ok trip, bimbo

 

      I’ll bring you back some space breadsticks.

                               They’ll be outta this world.

 

 

Dick watched the blinking cursor waiting on him. If he sent something, no one’d ever receive it. Jason’s phone had burned up with him the day he’d died.

Then he pressed back, scrolling down further to Red Hood. To a text Jason had sent to him when he'd thought Dick was dead and would never see it.

 

You didn’t deserve to die, dick.

That’s why I kill them.

So people like you don’t die.

 

Dick stared at it until his eyes hurt, and then he looked up at the sky, endless, endless. He’d gone there before, flown to the stars that everyone wrote poetry about. So then why did he want to be exactly where he was, stinking like cigarettes in front of a neon-lit minimart at two in the morning?

 

Later on:

“You went shopping with Jason?” Tim asked incredulously over the phone. Dick grinned because his little brother was finally talking to him. His free hand twirled a pen.

“By accident.”

“What did you guys even talk about? Did you make bird jokes? Like what did one egg say to another? ‘Let’s get cracking” or like How did this chicken get this beefy? By _egg_ cersizing.”

Dick let out a sharp burst of laughter, “How long have you been thinking about those?”

“for...for a while now,” Tim said his voice hesitating, and then tacked on in his usual dry voice,“...eggs are one of the easiest things to cook.”

“...have you tried pasta or pot roast?” Dick asked, “Those are pretty easy too.”

“I don’t exactly excel at the culinary arts.”

“C’mon, I’ll come over tomorrow evening before patrol and show you how.”

“...we’ll probably end up not going on patrol then.”

“We’d be patrolling your apartment, saving pot roast.”

“From myself,” Tim groaned, “Alright. Fine. I take no responsibility for this though.”

“That’s fine, Timmy. It’ll be a nice change from cereal.”

Tim made a small sound of amusement.

“And alright, you’ve stalled long enough. Give me the gossip. What did you and Jason talk about?”

Dick sighed, leaning back in his swivel chair until it creaked, scratching his head, “About some stuff I need to work on.”

“..like?”

“You’re nosy.”

“Deflection. Wow. Ok. Something fishy’s going on between you two.”

“Nope. But did you know Jason eats lean cuisines?”

“He’s probably just watching his figure.”

“Really?” Dick bent the back of the chair back even further, putting his feet up on the table. “Tell him I think he’s pretty enough.”

“....ok, creepy. And why don’t you ever tell me I’m pretty.”

Dick chuckled, “You’re pretty, Tim. There. Feel better now?”

“A little.”

Their laughter faded out. Dick stared at his now sleeping computer's black screen, mirroring his face to him. He tried a smile on, and it fit well enough, like an old skin, like coming home as he took a breath in and said:

“...Tim. I’m sorry. I missed you.”

Tim was silent on the other line for a long time before he let out a sigh, “Don’t do it again, Dick. I need someone I can trust.”

Excuses bundled up in the back of Dick’s mind. It was necessary sometimes. More efficient. Superman, Wonderwoman, never did it because Batman did it for them. Excuses or reasons.

Dick set the pen down on the desk, flicking it up before it rolled back down to his fingers. Up and down. Up and down. “Alright.”

Tim let out a sigh of relief.

And Dick leaned forward again, folding himself in half easily, resting his head on his knees, phone pressed between. “We’ll need to go shopping too. Make the front page with Wayne boys doing plebeian things.”

“You’re dead, Dick.”

“Right. Damn.”

“You and Damian can go shopping. He likes sitting in the cart.”

“...I’m not pushing him, Dick.”

“And Jason and I will investigate your apartment for evidence of a girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

“Um. The answer to that is no, and stop inviting people to my apartment.”

“I’ll send you a list of ingredients.”

“Are you even listening to me, Dick?”

“Yea,” Dick smiled, “I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this is weird, but I can never tell if someone wants a reply to their comment or not. So if you do comment, and want a response, put an @ at the beginning!


End file.
